


Is it cool if I hold your hand?

by riskyrevenge



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, Las Vegas, M/M, Rare Pairings, cuddling and watching pacific rim is the ideal aesthetic tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riskyrevenge/pseuds/riskyrevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porter realizes too late that he's accidentally on a date with his best friend.</p><p>Inspired by a prompt I was sent asking who in your otp kisses who first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is it cool if I hold your hand?

It’s a date.

God damn it, Porter really hadn’t meant for this to happen, but it’s happening.

He’s accidentally on a date with his best friend. The worst part is, he doesn’t think Hugo realizes it.

—

It starts off innocuously, making plans because they’re both in Vegas for their residencies. Porter wakes up to a text from Hugo: 

From: Hugo - 10:53 AM  
hey ! are you doing anything tonight ? 

To: Hugo - 11:26 AM  
No, got the night off uwu. wanna grab a bite? 

From: Hugo - 11:27 AM  
yes ! I’ll drop by your hotel around 9 :)

That’s that. Just… a night out with his best friend, whom Porter hasn’t seen in months. Touring schedules and living on different continents can really put a damper on the whole “hanging out” business. 

Hugo’s in the lobby waiting when Porter steps out of the elevator, wearing his black jacket, hands in the pockets, and on this occasion, one of his nicer collared shirts. It’s actually a light blue instead of his usual white, and Porter almost feels underdressed in his oversized Corgi shirt until he realizes he’s being stupid. It’s Hugo; Hugo couldn’t care less what Porter’s wearing.

Hugo beams when he sees him and Porter hugs him briefly with a clap on the back. “Missed you, buddy.”

Hugo laughs, “Hey Porter.”

And just like that it’s as if no time has passed since they saw each other even though all Porter has been able to think about lately is how much he’s missed seeing Hugo.

Porter lets Hugo pick a restaurant, and they decide to walk since it’s only three blocks away. Over dinner they trade stories about touring - venues, mutual friends, fan encounters. Porter asks Hugo how Lady Gaga’s doing, and he still doesn’t think that will never feel normal. Hugo asks Porter if he’s gotten over the “feud” with Joel yet and all Porter can do is scowl and say, “If you really do that coffee run with him, please spill your mocha all over his Ferrari.”

Hugo lets out a loud, startled laugh before he catches himself and hurriedly clamps a hand over his mouth. Porter smiles at that, glad for the reassurance that Hugo is in his corner even though he’s kind of caught in the middle. “You know, it’s really kind of childish, your tiff.”

“He’s the one being childish about it.” Porter shrugs. “I’m just reacting.”

Hugo makes a flippant hand gesture as if clearing the unsavory topic from the air and launches into a new discussion about a song he’s working on. Oddly, it makes Porter feel better about the whole situation. It hasn’t occurred to Porter until now exactly how much he’s missed his best friend. And now, the thought of having to say goodbye to him in a few hours feels a little bit like a death sentence.

They leave the restaurant stuffed, wandering the Vegas streets aimlessly. It’s not quite 11, so the city is only just waking up for the night. It’s easy to walk in companionable silence for them; after catching up over dinner, it feels right to just bask in the atmosphere of the city for now. To Porter it feels like he and Hugo are inside their own little bubble of calm. There are countless groups of people hurrying by them in all directions, everyone looking for a party. Every building has a neon sign attached to it, all of which cast all kinds of colors softly across Hugo’s face. It feels a little bit like an illusion. Ethereal. Porter thinks Vegas will always feel uncanny in some way. It can never be normal, just outside it. It makes him sad to think that being with Hugo has to be associated with the conflicting feelings of rightness and otherness. And when Hugo turns to look at him, Porter thinks the purple light they’re walking under makes Hugo the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And at that moment, Hugo’s dangling left hand brushes the back of Porter’s right knuckles, sending a jolt through Porter’s body.

That’s when he knows. Fuck. He fucked up. This is a fucking date oh god. Oh _god._

When did they even gravitate that close to each other where they could casually touch? Since when has casually touching Hugo given Porter butterflies? Maybe he was just startled. No, that’s not it, because now all Porter wants to do is grab Hugo’s hand and hold on. 

He glances down between them to see that Hugo’s stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and his heart literally feels like it sinks in his chest. _Holy shit,_ he thinks. _This is insane._

Porter can’t help but hear Usher’s “U Got It Bad” start up in the back of his mind. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so true.

“Porter?” Hugo’s looking at him, and Porter realizes they’ve stopped walking.

“Hmm? Sorry, I was zoning.”

“I said, do you want to get something to drink?”

They’re outside a boba tea shop and Porter can’t help the huge smile that spreads across his face. “For sure.”

They go in and Hugo gets a watermelon tea without tapioca and Porter shakes his head in mock judgment. They decide to take their drinks with them, and before Porter even realizes it, Hugo’s paid for both of them. His stomach somersaults at that and he silently berates himself. _It doesn’t mean anything._

Porter sucks a piece of tapioca up through his straw and Hugo looks at him quizzically. Porter raises an eyebrow in silent questioning, and Hugo asks, “Are those little globs really that good?”

Porter laughs. “It’s half the reason to even get bubble tea, dude.” He takes another long pull from his straw, sucks up two more pieces, and grins.

“Can I try it?” 

“Sure.” Porter’s heart thumps erratically as Hugo leans in to drink from the straw while Porter’s still holding the cup. Hugo gets a couple pieces of tapioca and Porter is definitely not watching Hugo lick his lips as he pulls away.

“It’s… weirdly good,” Hugo decides.

Porter smiles. “Slimy, yet satisfying.”

Hugo nods and sips his own drink thoughtfully. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? I’m not nearly tired enough to go back to my hotel yet.”

Porter agrees without even thinking about it, and they argue over what to watch the rest of the way back to the hotel. When they get to Porter’s room, he almost drops the key card pulling it out of his pocket.

The room isn’t big, but it’s a suite with a separate bedroom and living room area, and Hugo drops himself onto the couch while Porter scrolls through the movie listings. “Pacific Rim okay?”

Hugo sips the last of his tea and replies, “Sure,” before tossing his empty cup at Porter, who barely dodges it. Hugo laughs and instead of retaliating, Porter turns to hide his blush and toss both of their cups in the trash. He presses play on the movie and goes into the bathroom, leaning against the door after he closes it.

 _What the fuck._ Porter facepalms and runs his hand through his hair. _Why is this happening? Why now?_ There is never an optimal time for a gay crisis, and hiding in the bathroom while Hugo watches the movie without him seems a bit suspicious, a bit cowardly, and just generally pretty lame. Porter flushes the toilet to make it seem like he had an actual reason for being in the bathroom and splashes some cold water on his face before heading back out. _Just keep your cool,_ he tries to tell himself. _Yeah. Okay._

Porter settles down on the opposite end of the couch from Hugo just in time for the characters to start suiting up and climb into their giant robot head, accompanied by an intense guitar riff.

“It’d be pretty epic if you worked this into a set,” he says without looking at Hugo. “Intense. Powerful.”

Hugo sits up a little bit, like he’s trying to listen more intently. “Yeah. Could be quite danceable slowed down a beat or two…” Hugo starts nodding along with it. “Sexy, even.”

From then on, they’re paying far more attention to the soundtrack than the actual movie itself. Porter’s seen it, he knows what happens, but focusing on the music gives him something to take his mind off of the fact that Hugo’s hand is only two feet away, and lets him re-obtain a modicum of self control. At least, until Hugo gets up for a glass of water, and comes back to sit down right next to him.

Originally, being at opposite ends of the couch meant a few feet of space between them. Porter’s not sure what to make of Hugo purposely sitting with his leg close enough to touch Porter’s should either of them shift their weight slightly. They both have their legs propped up on the coffee table and Porter is thrown back into a jittery state of nervousness and uncertainty. He looks at the almost-nothing space between them and looks up at Hugo. Hugo’s watching the tv, invested in the fight scene. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Porter makes a decision.

“Hey,” he whispers. Hugo turns to look at him. “Yeah?”

Porter brings his hand up to Hugo’s neck, needing something to steady himself, and leans in. He hesitates with their lips half an inch apart, his heartbeat in his ears, can feel and hear Hugo’s breathing hitch. Then Porter pulls Hugo the rest of the way toward him, fitting their lips together.

Hugo’s hands appear on Porter’s shoulders, gripping him, as Hugo responds in earnest. Porter’s heartbeat feels like it’s increasing exponentially. He pulls away.

“What are you doing?”

Hugo’s gaze is searching, curious. Not angry or upset or confused. Just… wondering. Porter is bewildered.

“I, uh… felt like I needed to.”

“You needed to kiss me?” Porter’s not sure if it’s a conscious act or not, but Hugo’s eyebrow is raised and it’s somewhat comical, completely lacking any kind of judgment. His heart is still in overdrive but he feels relieved.

“Yeah. I did.” Porter fists a hand in Hugo’s shirt and pulls him back in, this time kissing him hard. Hugo gasps and returns Porter’s fervor, leaning into him and a hand gripping the short hair at the back of Porter’s head. Hugo runs his tongue over Porter’s bottom lip and Porter’s lips part reflexively, his tongue meeting Hugo’s. 

Before Porter can make sense of what’s happening, Hugo’s swinging a leg over Porter’s legs still propped up on the table, and he’s straddling Porter’s lap. He leans up and closer, their chests pressed together, holding Porter’s face between his hands. Porter bites Hugo’s lip, which elicits a breathy noise somewhere on the scale between a laugh and a moan. Hugo’s lips move away from Porter’s mouth, trailing kisses along his jaw, and Porter lets his head fall back and thump against the wall. Hugo’s sucking on his neck and Porter’s practically panting, his fingers digging into Hugo’s sides. 

He runs his hands up under Hugo’s jacket. He starts pulling at it, forcing Hugo’s arms down to cooperate, and Hugo leans back as he pulls it off and tosses it across the room. He meets Porter’s gaze, and Porter thinks he looks gorgeous. His cheeks are flushed, his brown eyes are shining, his hair is in in complete disarray. Hugo smiles. “I didn’t know you wanted this.”

Porter’s eyes, which he feels like are already popping out of his skull, widen. “I didn’t know _you_ wanted this!”

Hugo catches his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking as he runs a hand through Porter’s hair. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Thought it might go away, but it hasn’t.”

Porter reaches up to take Hugo’s hand and thread their fingers together. He kisses the back of Hugo’s hand. “Well that’s a fuckin relief.” Hugo laughs, climbing off Porter’s lap and back onto the couch. He doesn’t let go of Porter’s hand, instead runs his thumb over the back of it, and leans into Porter, resting his head on Porter’s shoulder. 

They go back to watching the movie, commenting on the soundtrack, which jaeger they’d like to pilot, silently wondering if they’re drift compatible. There are distractions… Hugo grabs Porter’s chin at one point and guides him until they’re laying down with Porter on top, desperately trying to taste and melt into each other. Porter can feel Hugo’s heightened heartbeat going almost in time with his own and kisses him like his life depends on it. Porter’s hands are in Hugo’s, pressing into the couch on either side of Hugo’s head, and they take their time.

The movie ends and neither of them move. The credits scroll by and Porter continues to lay on top of Hugo, and Hugo keeps his arms wrapped around Porter’s torso. 

“Do you have to go?” Porter hates how quiet and shaky his voice sounds. He doesn’t like airing his insecurities.

“I don’t want to.”

Porter presses his lips to Hugo’s, capturing them briefly before mumbling against them, “Don’t.”

He leads Hugo to the bed, still holding hands, and they toe off their shoes before climbing in fully clothed. It’s not worth breaking contact even for a moment.

Porter lays on his back and Hugo curls up next to him, head pillowed on Porter’s arm, their legs tangling together. Porter can feel Hugo’s sock on his ankle and knows when they wake up his arm will likely be entirely numb. He couldn’t care less.

“I think… I kinda love you, dude,” he breathes out, his chest tightening.

Hugo kisses Porter’s cheek. “I know.”

Porter glares at him before hitting him lightly in the shoulder.

“Ow!” but Hugo’s laughing quietly.

“Don’t give me that Han Solo bullshit!”

“Okay, okay!” Hugo grabs Porter’s chin and turns his head so he’s looking into Hugo’s eyes. “I think I kinda love you, too.”

Porter exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and kisses Hugo’s forehead. “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Hugo runs his hand slowly over Porter’s chest. “I’ll be here, mon amour.”

Porter’s last thought before falling asleep is just, _This is right._

**Author's Note:**

> I swear all I can think about lately are these two jerks. Aaaaaaaaaggggghhhhh.


End file.
